The smell of toast filled the air, sunlight spilling across the counter. You sat at the table, sipping your drink, while Isagi and Bachira turned breakfast into a battlefield.

Isagi stood at the stove, spatula in hand, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I’m telling you, if we don’t measure the eggs properly, the omelet will collapse," he muttered, carefully flipping.

Bachira leaned against the counter, grinning, holding a jar of honey.

"Who cares if it collapses? Food is supposed to be fun! Look—" He drizzled honey over a piece of toast, then added a ridiculous smiley face with jam. "See? Art."

Isagi groaned, turning to glare at him.

"That’s not art. That’s… chaos."

Bachira laughed, holding up the toast like a masterpiece.

"Chaos is delicious. She’ll love it."

Isagi sighed, muttering under his breath as he plated the omelet.

"She deserves something balanced, not… whatever that is."

Bachira darted over, placing his toast beside the omelet with dramatic flair.

"Balanced breakfast versus chaotic breakfast. Let her decide."

The two of them stood there, staring at you expectantly, one with a perfectly folded omelet, the other with a goofy toast face. Their rivalry was ridiculous, but their devotion was clear.

You took a bite of each, smiling faintly.
"They’re both good."

Isagi blinked, flustered.

"Both? But—"

Bachira burst out laughing, throwing an arm around Isagi’s shoulders.

"See? We’re both winners. She loves us equally. Now stop stressing and eat."

Isagi sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he sat down. Bachira grinned, already stealing a piece of omelet. The kitchen filled with laughter, playful bickering, and the warmth of a morning that was perfectly imperfect.